


Only Lovers Left Alive

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Depression, Established Relationship, Human!Jack, Human!Ray, Killing, M/M, Mavin, Music, Only Lovers Left Alive AU, Romance, Typical vampire rules but some are bullshit, Vampire AU, blood-drinking, gavin is annoying and Michael love / hates it, vampire!Ryan, vampire!gavin, vampire!geoff, vampire!michael, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is a vampire who spends his days (nights) living alone, depressed and secluded. Gavin is the entirely too cheery love of his eternal life. And even if he hates it sometimes, Gavin completes him.<br/>-<br/><em>“Gavin,” he breathes. “Tell me about Einstein’s theory of entanglement?”</em></p><p>
  <em>Gavin smiles weakly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not a theory.” he begins, like he has thousands of times before. “It’s proven. Einstein said, that when you separate entwined particles, it doesn’t matter how far you move them- all the way to the bleeding ends of the universe! If you alter one, the other will be altered and affected in exactly the same way. Spooky, ‘aint it?. How they just can't live without each other.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The streets of Jersey are never empty, not really.

Even now, in the dead of the night there are still people on the street corners. Girls available for pick up and party go-ers stumbling through the roads. Some of them are on their way home. For others, the night has only just started.

In the hospital, everybody is awake.

The sky may be black and the curtains may be drawn, but people walk through the corridors with bags under their eyes and smiles still plastered on their faces. They’re mostly young, probably working at this ridiculous time because that’s the only hours they can get.

Michael is up and out in the middle of the night for very _different_ reasons.

The scrubs he ‘borrowed’ get itchier every time he wears them, but he doesn’t squirm, just pulls the surgical mask over the pale skin of his face and walks through to a room in the back that he knows all-too-well.

Doctor Jack Pattillo sits in front of a microscope, studying something intently. He doesn’t hear Michael enter. He never does.

He steps away from his microscope, and turns to reach something. As he does, he catches a glimpse of Michael waiting behind him. He flinches a little, surprised but not _afraid_ , and bites his lip.

“Jesus, I hate when you do that.”

Michael doesn’t say anything. He never does. His eyes flick to the chrome fridge in the corner, and Jack sighs, standing up and walking towards it.

“You know,” he says as he begins stacking the silver flasks into a medical briefcase. “That stethoscope around your neck, I see you wear it every time- it’s from the 1950’s.”

“Is it?” Michael asks, tone flat. He knows this already, of course.

“Yes.” Jack muses. “It’s practically an antique. Should be on display in a museum, not just hanging there around your neck!” He laughs. Michael doesn’t laugh along with him.

“Where did you get it?” Jack asks, and this time, his face looks more serious, more concerned. Michael doesn’t reply, instead snapping the briefcase shut with his own hands. His eyes don’t leave Jack’s the whole time as he picks the case up, and reaches into his side pocket.

He tucks a rolled wad of cash in Jack’s lab coat pocket, before wordlessly turning and leaving the room.

Jack leans against his desk and watches Michael exit. He crosses his arms, frowning for a second. It’s natural for him to want to _know_ , to try and analyse every detail and work out the problem that just doesn’t quite make any sense.

But Michael is already gone, and Jack is left staring at an empty space.

oOo

As soon as Michael enters his house, his phone rings.

“Yo- I got what you wanted. I’m five minutes away, is tonight good for you?”

Michael checks his watch. He’s got a little time.

“Sure. Head on over.”

Michael hears Ray stumbling through the clutter that litters his hallways ten minutes later, and makes no effort to stand up and greet him. Ray knows how these things go by now.

Ray enters his living room, and sits in the chair opposite him, offering Michael a smile. Michael doesn’t smile back, but visibly perks up, leaning forwards in his seat, eyes fixed on the bag Ray has slung over his shoulder.

“It was hard to track down, but I managed to find one.” He says, digging through the duffel bag before pulling out a plastic case, which he hands to Michael.

Michael takes the case between his fingers, and opens it slowly. He smiles at what he sees.

“Pretty awesome right? One of the few left that aren’t holed up in some hoarders basement or in the Nintendo headquarters.”

“A Game&Watch handheld.” Michael says, smiling as he rotates the chunky plastic device in his hand. “This one of the originals too- by the looks of it.”

“Cool, right?” Ray asks, grinning. “I had to stop myself from playing it- that thing’s a relic.”

“I'll let you come over and have a go some-time. Just not tonight. Busy, you know.”

“Yeah.” Ray says, even if he doesn’t really know.

“Here.” Michael reaches over into a box behind his back and hands Ray a handful of notes. The Hispanic’s eyes widen, as the money is placed in his hand.

“Dude, I know it’s old but this thing was still only like thirty bucks.” He protests, trying to push the money back at Michael.

“Yeah, I know.” Michael says. “But you’ve helped me out a lot over the past year. Call it a bonus.” He forcefully folds Ray’s hand closed, and smiles at his friend(?)

Ray is the closest thing to a friend Michael has had in a long while.

“Alright.” Ray says, standing. “Well, uh, I’ve gotta go. Listen man, by the way-” he walks with Michael out of the room and into the hall. “More people’ve been looking for info about you.”

Michael’s eyes harden. “Nobody can know who I am Ray. _Nobody.”_

“I know dude- I know!” Ray says, stepping backwards and throwing his hands up. “And they won't- I'll make sure of it. It’s just… your skills and shit- you're pretty incredible, and people just wanna know like... the face behind the screaming, you know?"

“No.” Michael shakes his head. “No way.”

“I get it, you want privacy." Ray tucks his hands in the pockets of his giant hoodie and looks off across the room flippantly. "It's just ... you being so reclusive and everything, it just makes people want to know who you are more.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighs. “What a fucking drag.”

“It’s really fun, I swear!" Ray tells him. "I stream and stuff on this site called twitch, playing my games and just… talking and people love it. And your YouTube channel is already so popular with your Rage Quit stuff, people just wanna see your face and-”

“I said no!” Michael shouts, cutting him off abruptly enough that Ray physically flinches before nodding, looking away to the ground again. Michael feels guilty for a moment, before remembering that this is for Ray’s own good. This is Michael’s act of friendship.

“Okay.” Ray nods. “I'll throw them off. Say some people think you live in New York or something. I’m pretty good at starting internet rumours.”

“Thanks.” Michael nods.

“Is there uh- anything else I can get for you?” Ray offers. “There’s some rumours about some secret Mario levels that nobody could beat being leaked online, I could look into that maybe-”

“Actually” Michael says. “There is something. It’s… uh, not like the stuff I usually ask for…”

“What is it? Is it like a puzzle game or-”

“No.” Michael cuts him off. “It isn’t a game I just- I didn't know who else to ask, I guess.”

“Uh, okay- what is it?” Ray asks, pulling out his A5 notepad and scribbling on the page.

“A bullet.”

Ray doesn’t miss a beat. “What kind?”

“It needs to be wooden. brass casing, but a wooden pellet. Hardest wood you can find. 38 caliber”

 “I can get that.” Ray nods, taking it all down in his A5 notebook,. “I know some people. But uh- why wood, can I ask?”

Michael hesitates for a second. “No.” he says. “You can't ask why.”

Ray’s inquisitive look drops. “Okay.” He says “And how many do you want? Like a whole case, or-”

Michael shakes his head. “Just one.”

“One bullet?” Ray raises his eyebrow. “You sure?”

Michael swallows thickly. “Yes.”

oOo

Gavin smiles at the man that owns the café here in Tangier, walking over and hugging him like an old friend. Although, to Gavin, the man is just a child.

He walks to his usual table, sitting down and removing his dark glasses. He checks his watch, knowing that it will be time to feed soon. In hindsight, he should’ve stocked up before, and he’s cutting it fine, the first itches of hunger resting in the back of his throat. His leg taps the corner of the table repeatedly, and he fumbles with his phone, tipping it up and down on the table.

Geoff is late, as usual.

Gavin smiles as Geoff sits in front of him, wearing a black t-shirt reading: Make Mistakes that Gavin thinks he’s seen Geoff wear a hundred times.

“Hey kid.” Geoff greets, and Gavin smiles widely at him.

“Geoff Ramsey!”

Geoff immediately hunches forwards, glancing around them. “Shut your fucking mouth, saying my name in public like that.” He scolds. Gavin rolls his eyes.

"You’re such a paranoid bastard.” He says teasingly, pointing accusingly. Geoff narrows his eyes, but smiles endearingly at him. Gavin scoffs.

“Geoff, I don’t know why you insist on flirting- my heart belongs to another.” He jokes, flailing his hand to his face dramatically. Geoff just laughs and rolls his eyes.

“And remind me, why would I go for a dumb kid like you?”

“Oi!” Gavin exclaims, but he can't hide the grin on his face. “Still. You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” Geoff shrugs. “Just been having a clear-out, actually.”

“All those old relics- what on earth are you doing with them?” Gavin asks. Geoff’s eyes light up for a fraction of a second, and he almost smiles.

“Burning them.” He replies. Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Not good for the Ozone layer, that! We’ve gotta live here, remember!” he reminds him. Geoff laughs.

“Nah. I don’t plan on living that long, I don’t know about you.” He scoffs. Gavin frowns.

“How old even are you now, Geoffrey?” he glances at Geoff’s attire, “I know for a fact that T-shirt is from the seventies, and your shoes are even _older.”_

Geoff sighs. “Too old.” He answers.

The two leave the conversation at that, Geoff handing over a plastic and winking at him, before announcing that he still has lost plays to dispose of.

“Can you imagine what these idiots would do with Love’s Labour’s _Won_?” he muses aloud as he leaves the café. Gavin just laughs from his seat, watching the older man exit.

Geoff is a good friend.

Gavin waits around another twenty minutes or so, just enjoying the quiet ambience of the room, before his watch beeps.

He sighs, standing and nodding goodbye to the owner, slipping his glasses back onto his face and walking back through the stony streets. A man on a street corner calls out to him, using his broken English to propose a trade, but Gavin just shakes his head.

“Not tonight boys. I’m expecting a call.” Is the only explanation he gives, along with a wave of his hand as he disappears up cobblestone steps.

OoO

Michael’s watch beeps, like it does every day, at midnight respectively. He knows it is time to feed.

The clock on his wall says two-thirty AM, but Michael has never followed local time. To him, it is midnight. Somewhere in the world, wherever he picked up this watch from, it is midnight.

He walks to his fridge, pulling out the silver tube. One crystal flute is pulled from the cupboard above his head, and he pours the thick red liquid in, up to the brim. His hands don’t shake as he holds the glass, walking over to his couch and sighing as he sinks into the fabric. He doesn’t remember where he got the couch from. He doesn’t care either.

He reaches over to his favourite record player, and soon ‘Funnel of Love’ fills the room. Michael sighs, and wonders if _he_ is doing the same, wherever the fuck he is right about now. It's probably Tangier still. He always liked the warmer climates.

Michael looks up to the ceiling and thinks about Geoff. Michael looks up to the ceiling and then he thinks about Ryan. He thinks about Ray as the glass hits his lips and he thinks about Jack as he swallows thickly, wondering why he chose O-Negative.

And then, suddenly, Michael remembers why.

Because O-Negative is the _sweetest._

The room spins, and he smiles, wanting to laugh but not quite knowing how. He leans back, looking towards the ceiling. It spins and spins, slowly, in time with the record in the player. He forgets how to breathe, but then remembers that he doesn’t need to.

He is at peace.

oOo

Gavin waits all night, but the call doesn’t come.

And it hurts- it always hurts. But then, he can't let _him_ know that. He can’t show weakness, not now when they've come so far togeher. Not _ever._

He comes down off his high, but it feels disappointing. Geoff bought him the good stuff, as usual, but it just never feels really complete without _him_ there.

He settles into sleep just as the sun rises, and tries not to think about it.

In his dreams, he sees Ryan’s face. Those cold eyes, lit up, and those perfect white teeth, grinning deviously. Ryan looks like he could’ve either just murdered six people or just read a good book.

But then Gavin remembers Ryan must’ve read every single book there is by now. There is no new material, not for him.

“Listen to me.” Ryan whispers, and Gavin frowns in his sleep.

 _Ryan is trouble._ A voice that sounds like Geoff says. _Don’t let him get into your head._

He doesn’t want to listen and soon, drifts back off into a dreamless sleep.

oOo

Ray doesn’t visit him in person in the daylight, because he has been instructed not to. When Michael awakens at half past five in the evening, there is a note on the floor, attached to an envelope.

_Good luck with your… project, or whatever._

_-Ray_

Michael smiles a little as he reads the note, before scrunching it up and tossing it to the side. He picks up the envelope and walks through to his living room, turning the package in his fingers.

He opens it gently, and takes the bullet out of its sealed wrap. He holds it up to the light, and inspects it thoroughly as he turns it in his fingers. He brings it to his nose and inhales, tasting oak in the back of his throat.

This will be perfect.

The gun resides in a velvet case on a shelf in a cupboard, behind a postcard that he thinks he found in Versailles, he can’t quite remember.

He loads the gun, and spins the barrel blindly. He holds the gun to his chest, directly in line with his heart.

He sighs, because Russian Roulette isn’t really what he was going for, and it’s much more fun with a partner. Still, he pulls the trigger and hears a click, signifying that the gun is empty. He pulls it away and inspects the barrel.

He was only one away.

Before he can turn it in again, there is a ringing from his couch. He curses under his breath, before resting the gun on the table. This can wait.

It’s Gavin, of course. It’s always Gavin. Ray doesn’t have this number, Geoff doesn’t have a phone and Ryan wouldn’t even think of calling him, not anymore.

It’s Gavin, grinning into the phone camera, stupid face with his stupid nose filling up the screen of Michael’s decades old TV, which he’s only been able to wire to an IPhone because he’s fucking smart.

“Hello my love.” Gavin greets him with that same simpering tone and vacant, idiotic smirk. Michael glances down into his lap, and a tiny smile plays on his face.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Gavin laughs softly. “No, you don’t.”

Michael looks back up at the screen and the webcam on top of it and smiles openly, invitingly. “You’re right. I don’t.” he agrees.

“How are you?” Gavin asks, clearly leaning back against his bed. Michael shrugs, but doesn’t say anything. Gavin sighs. “You look tired.” He says.

"I’m fine.”

“Have you been feeding?”

“I’m fine, _mom_.” Michael glares. Gavin just gives him the same blissfully stupid endearingly smile at the familiar pouty look on his Michael’s face.

“Just checking, ‘sall.”

Michael sighs. “Sorry. I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m top.” Gavin muses. “I miss you though… I wish you were here.” He sighs. “You used to love it here, in Tangier Michael- so many people who are just so… _spiritual_ , you know?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “So, a bunch of fucking hippies, like you then- if I remember it well enough? No thanks. I like Jersey plenty fine.”

Gavin frowns. “Michael. Why are you so grumpy recently?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

Michael sighs again. “People’ve been looking from me. From my YouTube and stuff, Ray says.” He explains. “They haven’t gotten too close but- whatever.” He glances towards his firmly drawn black out curtains anxiously. “Ray says he’s gonna throw them off to New York.”

“That’s good.” Gavin says. “Can’t have people banging down your door looking for autographs- can we?”

“I doubt it’ll go that far.” Michael laughs. “I’m just popular on the internet. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“Yes it does Michael! We live in a new world now- the dawn of a new era. The time of the _internet celebrity_.”

“Ain’t it grand?” Michael mocks, frowning intently. Gavin sighs at him.

“Love, you can't spend all your time lost in the past-"

“-Watch me.”

Gavin rolls his eyes again. “Well. New subject, yeah? Written any good music lately?”

Michael shrugs, and looks off to the side where a few of his old guitars hang, dusty and unused. “Haven’t written any music in a long time, Gav.” He admits. “The fucking zombies have ruined it for me. I like video games now.”

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen your YouTube channel love. Rage Quit? How articulate.”

Michael’s face twitches into a smirk. “It was Ray’s idea anyway.”

Gavin rolls around on the screen, leaning back on his bed. “When are you coming down to visit Michael?- Geoff would _love_ t’see you again. It’s been too long.”

“It has.” Michael agrees. “But I can’t leave, not now. I’ve got…” Michael trails off, glancing to the gun on the other side of the room. “Things. To sort.”

Gavin looks concerned on the screen, and Michael pretends not to notice.

“Well then,” he muses. “I guess I'll book my flight out to Jersey then.”

Michael stiffens. “Gav- you don’t have to-”

“Shut up. I want to! I haven’t seen you in too long. I _love_ you Michael.”

“I love you too.” Michael replies, and it isn’t anything close to a lie. With Gavin, it’s a promise. It always has been. “But I don’t want you going out of your way to visit. You don’t have to-"

“But I _do_ have to, Michael- we’re meant to be married- remember?”

Michael smiles at the thought, and the silver band on the chain around his neck feels warm against his skin. Gavin always hated wearing his, but Michael would always grit his teeth and bare it for sentiments sake. “How could I ever forget?” 

“Which was your favourite?” Gavin asks as he lies back in his bed, smiling dreamily. “I think mine was our third. All those stuffy nineteenth century blokes being so _shocked_ and trying to run us out of town!”

“What was it they called us?” Michael asks with a laugh, falling into the distant memory easily, pictures clear and vivid in his head as if it only happened a week ago, rather than over a century.

“Poofters!” Gavin exclaims, laughing loudly. His laughter reverberates through the whole of Michael’s house through the tinny tv speakers and it makes Michael's whole body tingle and the tiny hairs across the backs of his arms stand up.

"Still, I think my favourite was still our first” Michael says. Gavin nods.

“Yeah. It was lovely, wasn’t it? My mum was there!”

“And mine.” Michael adds.

“Maybe our first _was_ my favourite…” Gavin muses, rolling back onto his bed and lying flat. “Maybe _all_ of them were my favourite.”

“Maybe we should have another, it’s legal now- here.” Michael explains, glancing out of the window again through the tiny break in the curtain as somebody walks past with a medium sized dog.

“Is this your way of proposing? Because I think you can do better than that.” Gavin teases, and Michael smiles.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you get here.” He replies. Gavin grins.

“Guess I better book my flight then.”

oOo

Gavin sits with Geoff on the harbour, resting his head on his old friends shoulder.

“I’m worried Geoff,” he admits. “I’m worried about Michael. I think he’s getting bad again.”

Geoff just sighs and shakes his head. “That boy… always thinks he’s better off alone- you know what he’s like Gavin. We’ve put up with it for centuries. He’s not going to just... change.”

Gavin sighs. “I know Geoff- I do… I just, I wish he would just open his eyes, you know? To finally open his bloody eyes and _look_ at the world. The _new_ world. But he just wants to spend all of his time living in the past.”

“Yeah, but he’s always been like that Gav. He’s a pre-renaissance kid- it’s in his fucking genes to avoid new things. He’s still young, remember.”

“I know.” Gavin nods. “I blame Byron, and those other French pricks he used to hang around with back in the day.” He says, rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest.

Geoff chuckles lightly. “Suicidal romantic jerk-off.” Gavin nudges him with his shoulder.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jerks off a lot.” Geoff says, his eyes playful, but his tone is serious. “I guarantee you, every free minute that kid has, his dick’s in his hand.”

Gavin sighs, and rests his head on Geoff shoulder. “Let’s hope he’s just a romantic jerk-off then.”

They are silent for a while, before Gavin speaks. “I miss him, Geoff. The old him. When he used to look at the stars. And when he used to look at me like I was the brightest one. He still does- sometimes. I see a glimpse of it, but it’s hard when you're looking through the screen of an IPhone. It’s not the same as seeing him in person.”

“I really don’t get how you two dickheads work. You living here and him holed up in Jersey.” Geoff says. “When was the last time you even slept in the same bed?”

Gavin shrugs and smiles. “A while.” He muses. “But we’re not like that, me and Michael. I think if we did live together all the time, we’d drive each other mad. Just because we live far apart… doesn’t mean we love each other less, you know?”

“No. I don’t know.” Geoff laughs. “But if it works for you, it works for me, right?”

Gavin smiles. “Thanks Geoff. Anyway, changing the subject… I had a dream the other night.”

“What about?” Geoff asks, frowning.

“Ryan.” Gavin explains. “He was asking me to listen to him. Do you think he’s trying to make contact?”

“Last I heard, he was fucking travelling or some bullshit. But it’s possible. Anything’s possible when it comes to Ryan, remember.”

Gavin laughs at this, a thousand memories of their once good friend racing through his mind in a blur.

“I do remember.” He says. “How could I ever forget? He got us all into so much trouble over the years.”

“He did.” Geoff muses, shaking his head but smiling fondly. “Crazy bastard.” Geoff looks down at his watch. “Sunrise is in an hour, Gav." He notes, looking across the harbor and back to the city. "We should both head back.”

“Alright.” Gavin nods in agreement. The pair stand and hug tightly, Geoff smiling into Gavin’s shoulder. “I won't see you for a while now.” Gavin says.

“Stay safe.” Is the last thing Geoff says to him, before turning and walking back into town, disappearing into the shady market stools.

Gavin heads back to his own apartment, and thinks of Ryan the whole way. The glint in his eye and the smile on his lips. In his dream, he looked like the same Ryan.

He looked _dangerous_.

Gavin tries to forget about Ryan for a while, as he packs his suitcase in preparation for the next nights travel. He already fed with Geoff, so that’s taken care of, thankfully and he smiles at the warm heavy feeling in his stomach.

He doesn’t bother much about packing clothes, because he can always wear Michael’s anyway. Except Michael refuses to wear skinny jeans, so Gavin always has to pack them himself. Not that he minds- Michael has far more annoying qualities than clothing preference.

The rest of his luggage is filled up with the things he absolutely needs. All the books he was supposed to read whilst he was here but never got round to. His Xbox and his DVD boxset of The Inbetweeners because he can bet money on the fact that Michael doesn’t have Netflix.

The last thing he packs is a photo of the four of them, Geoff, Michael, Ryan and Gavin, taken back in the nineteen-sixties when they were all still okay with each other. He laughs at Geoff’s clean shaven face and the fringe on Michael’s jacket. He absentmindedly strokes his lovers happy face, and feels more than a little bit nostalgic.

He slips the photo on top of his belongings and snaps the suitcase shut, standing it up and leaving it by the door. His hands move to his neck, and he plays with the locket that Michael bought him for their first wedding anniversary, with a lock of each of their hair sealed inside because photos hadn’t exactly become available yet.

The locket isn’t even really a locket, not really- because lockets didn't exist either.

oOo

Michael may be an asshole, but he’s still a gentleman. The sunglasses he wears even though it’s half eleven sit loosely on the bridge of his nose, one arm leaning out of the window. Someone walks by and stares at him. He bares his teeth, but not his fangs, and laughs when the man flips him off.

He looks back at the airport and then at his watch.

 _Typical Gavin_ , he muses, _always late._

“Sorry! Flight was delayed!”

Gavin slips into the passenger seat, grinning and Michael jumps. Gavin laughs at him.

“It’s like you read my mind.” He says with a grin.

“Nah. That’s just a myth.”

Gavin looks good. Tangier has cooked his usually olive complexion to a more darkened tan. Gavin would always claim it was the Italian in him that made him colour so easily.

His skin is a direct contrast to Michaels. Michael’s vampiric genes are stronger, that was clear by the sharpness of his fangs and the deathly pale look of his skin.

Gavin is a half-breed, a hybrid. But Michael loves him anyway. Sometimes it’s the little bit of human in Gavin that brings out the best in Michael. Sometimes, it’s the worst.

They drive in silence back to Michael’s house, Gavin hanging his head out of the window the whole way, letting the cool New Jersey air wash over him like the tide. Michael spares him a sideways glance for a second, and grins to himself.

Gavin is different. But he is also the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two!

They arrive at Michael’s house within the next hour. He enters first, carrying Gavin's bag with only three complaints of how ridiculously heavy it is. Nobody can accuse him of not being a gentleman, after all. Gavin smiles as he watches his husband from the other side of the doorway, clutching his jacket a little tighter around him.

“Gonna invite me in then?” he asks. Michael grins.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should leave you standing out there all night, huh?”

Gavin giggles. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Michael doesn’t reply, instead, extends his hand to Gavin, who takes it. The Brit steps inside, and the door closes with a soft click behind him. He rests his sunglasses on the table by Michael’s door, and looks around the house.

There’s clutter everywhere, but that was always his Michael.

Michael take’s Gavin’s hand and kisses it lightly, before pressing his nose into Gavin’s palm and inhaling deeply. Gavin did always have the sweetest scent, after all. The two move closer together, and greet in a romantic kiss, before Michael’s face drops to Gavin’s neck, where his scent is most potent.

They stay like this for a while, re-familiarizing themselves with each other’s bodies, before Gavin leads Michael through the house like he owns it, walking into the living room and settling down on the leather sofa. Michael doesn’t sit beside him, instead walking over to the fridge after glancing at his watch.

“Sorry. I’m starving.” He says, as he pours two glasses.

“You waited for me?” Gavin asks, turning to look through to the kitchen. Michael smiles but doesn’t look up, and Gavin swoons a little. “My lovely Michael.” He adds, as Michael walks back to the couch, handing one glass to him.

“Bottoms up.” Michael toasts, before tilting his neck back, and downing the drink in one go. His pupils dilate, and Gavin sits beside him, not saying anything. His own drink is still cool in his hands, and he takes the moment to watch Michael, falling headfirst into ecstasy, laid back on the sofa. It's been a long time, perhaps too long, since he's been able to watch Michael do much of anything. He'd always been beautiful in the seconds after feeding. Gavin stares until Michael musters some strength in motor function and cranes his neck slightly to look at him and quirk one thick eyebrow. Gavin quickly drinks, knowing that savouring a moment is pointless when you have a suddenly unlimited supply.

“Gavin.” Michael sighs, running his fingers through Gavin’s hair as the Brit eventually falls into his lap. “Tell me about Einstein’s theory of entanglement again?”

Gavin sighs and glances over to the curtain-shielded windows. “Not now love.” He says. “Don’t want to be up all day.”

oOo

They wake the next night, tangled together into each other. Gavin wakes first, rolling on his side to rest on Michael’s cool, pale skin. He stretches and yawns, jolting Gavin awake.

“Evening love.” Gavin greets. Michael grunts a reply, but doesn’t actually say anything.

“It’s five thirty.” Gavin says, nosing at Michael’s shoulder. “Time to rise, Dracula.” He teases.

“I hate it when you call me that." If Michael’s eyes were open, Gavin knows they would be rolling. "He’s just a story, idiot."

Gavin smirks. “Aren’t we all just that then, Michael?" He asks. "Stories?”

“Shut up dude. You’ve been spending too much time with Geoff.” Michael says, but he smiles anyhow, and manages to sit up, peeling his eyes open. "Did you sleep okay?” he asks Gavin after a few minutes of silence. Gavin nods, sitting up beside him and  Michael places a delicate kiss on his shoulder.

“Well, sort of anyway." Gavin adds as an after thought , stretching his neck as the haggled memories of a dream tug at his consciousness. “I... I had another dream I think."

“Another dream?" Michael frowns. "A fucking dream of what?”

“Of Ryan." Gavin looks down at the bedcovers, guilt creeping up his spine from the tension is Michael's shoulders at the  mention of Ryan's name. "I... I think he’s maybe trying to send me a message.”

“Ryan? Shouldn’t he be sleeping in a fucking coffin somewherere?" Michael splutters bitterly. "Preferably with a wooden stake?” He adds, teeth gritting.

“ _Michael_ -"

“ _Gavin_ ” Michael imitates. “Look, Ryan is _trouble_. Remember that.” He warns. Gavin nods sadly, and sighs a little.

“I know Michael. I know he is but… he’s still, family- isn’t he?”

Michaels face shifts , settling into a hard frown. “No" he says. "He aint no fucking family of mine. Not anymore. You’re the only family I need.”

Gavin leans his head up to allow Michael to kiss him on the lips. He isn’t completely satisfied with his husband’s mentality, not yet, but it’ll do. They have the night.

oOo

“Check.” Gavin announces, knocking another one of Michael’s black pieces over on the chessboard before scooping it up with slender fingers and testing it on his side of the table. Michael groans, tugging his beanie off and tossing it across the room.

“For such an idiot, you’re ridiculously good at this game.” He says, leaning forwards to rub his hands through his hair frustratedly, trying his best to scan the hard for a loophole that doesn't exist. Gavin just laughs, and watches Michael make his move.

“And for someone so smart,” he replies once Michael is finished, moving his own piece to knock Michael’s queen out of the game. “You’re pretty shit at chess."

Michael scoffs, and folds his arms, leaning back in his chair. Gavin sighs happily, leaning back in his own. “There goes your queen, boi. I think you might be done for."

“You’re ruthless.” Michael says, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Absolutely ruthless.” He says again, quieter.

Gavin grins. “I’m a survivor, baby.”

"Nah," Michael eyes the remaining pieces on the board before collecting them slowly back into the velvet bag they came in. "You just wouldn’t shut up fucking talking." He accuses. "Fucking distracted the shit outta me.”

Gavin ignores Michael’s excuses, and instead smiles wistfully to himself, glancing at some framed photos on the other side of the room.

“Didn’t you play with Byron?” he eventually asks. Michael raises his eyebrows at the memory, but nods. Gavin grins softly.

“What was he like?”

“A pompous asshole, obviously!”

Gavin giggles. “Why am I not surprised?” Michael doesn't offer a reply, just folds the chess board away. "And what about that Mary Wollstonecraft?" He asks. "What was she like?”

Michael looks up from the board to Gavin, and smirks, top row of teeth coming down to snag at his bottom lip. “She was delicious.” He teases.

Gavin laughs loudly at that, pushing himself back from the table. “Cheeky bastard.”

Michael rolls his eyes, and leaves both the table and a giggling Gavin behind, moving over to his record player. He puts in something old and fifties sounding, the title of which he can’t quite remember. Gavin smiles and stands, moving over to the fridge.

“It’s feeding time.” He announces, delving into the back of the fridge where the freezer compartment sits, usually abandoned. He holds out two ice-pops, blood red in colour, and Michael takes one, frowning as Gavin slides his in and out of his mouth.

“Blood on a stick?” he observes, unimpressed before taking a hesitant lick. It doesn’t taste bad, so he goes again, this time gently suckling on the top.

“I invented it.” Gavin says proudly, leaning against the counter-top. “It’s lovely on a hot night.”

“It’s not exactly boiling outside.” Michael notes, moving over to stand directly in front of Gavin. They're close enough that their hips are touching, but it isn’t sexual. Just intimate.

“Maybe it isn’t in New Jersey!” Gavin laughs. “But back at mine, these go down a treat. I’ve got Geoff round, more often than not- begging for one.”

"Hm" Michael muses. “Maybe you should start selling them.”

Gavin doesn't reply, just hums contently around his frozen treat and the two stand together, just sucking for a while. The rush of a drink is still there, but it’s muted, almost. Michael sucks harder, and Gavin giggles.

“You do like it then?” he asks, smugness enveloping over his features, from his raised eyebrows to his pleased smirk. Michael glares, but he can't keep the facade up for long. Sometimes, Gavin really does have good fucking ideas.

“It tastes good. I'll give you that.” He admits, but shrugs flippantly enough to stay nonchalant. Gavin scoffs at him, but Michael distracts him easily enough by tilting his head up, kissing Him on the lips once. It’s soft and intimate, and leaves his blood rushing warm for a second. Then, Gavin detaches from him, walking past the kitchen and into the living room, swaying his hips slowly to the music that continues to play in the background of the pleasent evening.

Michael loves to watch Gavin dance, the way he throws his head around in time to the music, hips swaying impossibly slow and his arms raised half-assedly in the air, not quite above his head, but resting more at shoulder level, his eyes closed and a soft sort of smile on his face. Occasionally, his tongue will poke out, licking up the ice-treat, sucking the falling cool drops of blood.

Michael lounges on the sofa, licking at his own lolly. He smiles as he watches Gavin, who is already lost in a mixture between his blood lust and the music, a few red drops dripping out from his lips and down to his chin. Michael feels his own fangs begin to sharpen as he sucks off a large section of the tip, allowing it to melt on his tongue. He grins.

oOo

The next night, they go out, to an old abandoned building that has been standing for as long as most of the humans in town can remember. The walls are practically missing, the building more roof and floor than anything, and it makes Gavin grin, eyes lighting up behind his dark glasses. He and Michael stand back to back, appreciating the intricately designed theatre in all its glory  by sidestepping together in small circles.

“She’s beautiful.” Gavin breathes, craning his neck to look up at the finely carved ceiling. "Too beautiful to be condemned like this in this shit-hole of a town.”

“Hey.” Michael snaps. “I like it in this shit-hole of a town.”

“Really?” Gavin frowns. “You really like it here? It’s… run down, it’s decrepit. Nobody wants to live in this part of town.”

Michael looks up. “This place will rise again. There is water here. And when the cities in the south are burning, this place will bloom” he says, ominously.

Gavin shrugs, and walks off, reaching out to stroke his fingers up one of the pillars, holding the roof above them.

“She’s so old, Michael.” He whispers. “And she’s hurting. She’s hurting so much, but she puts up with it to regain her beauty.”

“Well she does have that, and after all, isn’t that all that’s important these days?” Michael asks, sarcastically. Gavin rolls his eyes, and lifts his hand off the wall. He turns, listening with a quiet frown as Michael rambles, more to himself than anyone else.

“-these fucking humans, man… I'll never understand them. Always so obsessed with what’s next, what’s new, what’s current. They never take enough time to appreciate the relics of yesterday. Look at this fucking place.”

Michael scoffs at his own words bitterly, and the sound sends a shiver down Gavin's spine. Michael’s never been one to not vocalise his thoughts and opinion, but something is different, this time around. Something has changed, since the last time they saw each other.

 

 

"-but the what do you expect from these dimwits, huh? They’re stupid mutts that roam this planet like they own it, but they don’t." Michael's words are venomous stabs in the dark, and each one is punctuated with his angry frown and clenched fists. "-We do! We’re always there, always fucking have been! Fucking... lurking in the corners and hiding in the shadows. We could take out every fucking zombie on this fucking earth if we really wanted to-"

“-Michael." Gavin has heard enough. "Don’t talk like that."

“But don’t you see, Gav? We could have it all! We could make the world what we want it to be, what it should be. Beautiful buildings that don’t have to suffer. Ancient relics, out for all to see and enjoy-”

“Stop it.” Gavin snaps. Behind his sunglasses, a tear almost falls and he frowns, sniffing to cover it. "Just stop it, Michael.”

The rest of the drive back is silent. Michael goes straight up to the bedroom when they enter the house, not looking back at Gavin. Gavin frowns, refusing to give in to his idiot of a husband, and flops down on the couch.

He isn’t left waiting for long when Michael re-appears, dressed in a doctor’s scrubs, stethoscope hanging limply round his neck. Gavin can't help himself. He smirks.

“Playing doctors and nurses are we?”

“I’ve gotta go out.” Michael explains, tone flat. Supcion lingers in the back of Gavin's mind, and he frowns.

“Without me?”

“Sorry." Michael doesn't sound sorry at all. "I'll be back soon.”

Michael bends over and leaves him with a firm kiss, before slipping up his surgical mask, and walking out of the house, leaving Gavin on the sofa. He looks around the room.

He’s taking it all in, the old relics that lay around Michael’s living room. He smiles at the framed tour posters of rock gods and band legends, and stands up to stroke the worn paper gently. Michael had always been fond of his collectibles.

There’s an old wooden cabinet in one corner of the room, which catches Gavin’s attention. He strokes it gently before turning the handle, and opening it. Inside sit tiny collectible figures from a thousand different video games Gavin could never even remember the names of. Each is covered in a layer of dust, lined up on the shelves evenly. Michael loves his minuscule treasures, but that clearly doesn’t mean he appreciates cleaning them quite as much.

Gavin laughs to himself, Michael acts like such an old relic, wishing he could travel back to the Ye Olde Days, but he still absolutely loves his video games- the pinnicale of modernisation.

He squats down a little, examining the bottom shelf of the cabinet through the narrow French doors. It’s a lot of the same really, old action figures and collectible models clustered together and assorted by size, height and colour. But then he comes across something he doesn’t expect. There is a break in the dust line, which stops at an old French postcard, which leans against a bulky velvet jewellery box. Michael has never cared for jewellery, Gavin knows this, so he frowns as he pulls the heavy box out, cradling it in his long fingers. There is something of weight inside, he notices as he lifts the box before placing it on the table.

The box is covered with intricate swirls made from silk, Gavin ascertains with a run over of his fingers. The box is old, but not very so, which makes Gavin frown a little. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the box look old, apparently.

He pops open the clasp, and almost gasps. Almost.

The gun is silver, but covered in dust and smudges. Gavin wipes at it a little with the sleeve of his jacket, and stares at his lack of reflection in the metal. He frowns as he turns the gun around in his hands examining every feature.

What would Michael need a gun for anyway? And why would he have gone to such trouble to hide it?

Gavin flicks the barrel open and his dead heart nearly stops. The gun isn't an empty relic- not like he'd hoped. Inside sits one single bullet, which he shakes out into the palm of his hand. As soon as the wooden scent hits his nostrils and makes his skin tingle, he feels sick and dizzy and sad. His eyes brim a little with tears, but he doesn’t let them fall. Michael won't do that to him- not as well.

“Oh love,” he whispers, as if Michael can hear him all the way out in wherever he's gone. Gavin tolls the bullet around inbetween his finger and his thumb. “Not again.”

After a few minutes of consideration he silently reloads the gun and puts it exactly back where he found it, closing the cupboard doors back up and turning his back on them. He fumbles for his phone in his pocket, and flops down on the couch as he calls Geoff.

“Gavin! A pleasure as always! How are you?”

“I’m fine Geoff.” Gavin says, but he knows the sadness in his tone is more than obvious to someone as intuitive as Geoff.

"I'm sensing a "but" coming soon"

Gavin sniffs, holding one hand to his chest. "You'd be sensing right." He laughs sadly. "I... I'm fine but... Michael isn’t.”

“He’s not…” Geoff doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Gavin swallows thickly.

“He is.” Gavin hears Geoff sigh on the other end of the line.

“Of course he fucking is. That motherfucker.”

“I don’t know what to do Geoff… I can’t leave him now, I can’t go back to Tangier unless he’s with me, and he doesn’t want to leave this shitty run-down suburb in the U-S- of fucking A.”

“Hey. Don’t talk about my birthplace like that you little British shit.” Geoff teases. But Gavin doesn’t laugh, he isn’t in a teasing mood.

“I’m so worried about him Geoff. You should've heard him today… talking about how much he despises humans and he wants to live in the past and all the other bloody bullshit. He sounds like fucking Hamlet or something.”

“Hey. Hamlet was a good play! You were in it!”

“So were you.” Gavin points out. “And if even we couldn’t fucking liven it up, God help Michael.”

Geoff sighs, and Gavin lies back on the sofa. “So what are you gonna do?” Geoff asks. Gavin bites his lip nervously.

“I’m gonna have to stay here with him for a little while, see if I can maybe convince him to leave. No promises though. I just can't let him out of my sight.”

“I’m rooting for you kids. Always am.” Geoff says. There’s a pause, almost as if Geoff is thinking something over, which Gavin knows isn’t right because since when does Geoff think before he speaks?

“Have you heard anything else from Ryan?” he eventually asks. Gavin’s stomach twists a little.

“I’ve dreamt of him again Geoff. A few times actually. But I’m not answering, and I doubt he’ll show up out of the blue like that.”

“I reached out to an old friend and last he heard was that Ryan was in LA.” Geoff offers. “But I couldn’t tell you anything else. Now I’ve got to go because the even with all the curtains closed the sun is starting to hurt. I need to get back to sleep.”

“Alright.” Gavin says, sitting up. “I'll speak to you later Geoff.”

“Bye buddy.”

“Bye.”

The phone beeps when Geoff disconnects, and Gavin tosses it loosely to the other side of the sofa. He lays there for an unmeasurable amount of time, that could be minutes but feels like hours before he hears the click in the lock.

Michael emerges from the hallway, pulling off his mask and sunglasses, and sets a black case down on the table. “Fresh blood baby.” He nods to the case, smiling. “I’m going to bed, joining me?”

Gavin sighs. “In a minute, love.” He mumbles. Michael doesn’t comment on his sudden flip in mood, just disappears from the room. Gavin hears the creaking of footsteps up the stairs, before the click shut of the bedroom door.

He lies on the sofa for another few minutes, just thinking. Thinking about Michael and Geoff and Ryan and how fucked up things can be, without being obvious. At first glance Michael is okay. Spend weeks alone with him, it’s clear there's something wrong.

Deciding he will confront Michael in the morning, Gavin stands, and wriggles his feet out of his shoes, before tiptoeing up the stairs to Michael’s room. He strips off his clothes one by one on his way, first his jacket, then his shirt, then his jeans. He keeps his socks on, though, because he hates the feeling of his bare feet against Michael's cold wooden floors.

He opens the bedroom door, where Michael is lying flat on his back, eyes tightly closed and eyebrows furrowed. He looks so pained, worried even as he sleeps.

Gavin slips into the bed, straddling Michael’s waist, and just sitting there for a bit. He reaches out, and strokes Michael’s curly hair gently, which wakes him up. He’s a little groggy as he sits up, so he and Gavin are nose to nose, and his face is confused. Gavin snakes his arms around Michael’s shoulders, crossing them at the back of his neck.

“Hey.” He whispers.

Michael's eyes are barely open, and his voice is husky from sleep. “...hey?" He mumbles.

Gavin swallows, and stares Michael in the eyes as steadily as he can." I love you, Michael." He says quietly. "You know that, right?”

“Of course.” Michael nods, blinking a few times to pull himself back into a state of consciousness. "I love you too, Gavin. Are you okay?” he whispers back, concerned. Gavin just nods, and rests their foreheads together.

“I just wanted you to know.” He whispers. “That I love you, so much. I really love you, Michael.”

Michael’s hands are cool at his waist. His thumbs circle Gavin’s hipbones gently, and he remains silent, just tipping his head up to kiss Gavin against the lips gently.

oOo

Gavin wakes first, as usual, practically dragging Michael out of bed with him. he can't pretend like he got the best amount of sleep that night, but Michael is being insufferable, moaning and swearing as Gavin tugs him out of bed, and leads him into the living room.

Michael flops down on the leather sofa, and runs his hands over his face. He looks up to Gavin.

“Why?” Is all he asks. Gavin frowns at him, and his fists clench slightly.

“’Cause you’re a bloody prick, that’s why!" He exclaimes. Michel raises his eyebrows.

“What the fuck have I done to you?” he asks, throwing his hands up defensively. Breathing deeply, Gavin says nothing, just makes his way over to the cabinet. Michael sits up and tenses as he walks over there, but makes no real effort to stop him.

Gavin throws Michael’s figurines to the ground and tosses the postcard over to the table, before delving into the jewellery box and pulling out the gun.

Michael doesn’t even look surprised.

Gavin spins the barrel, and aims the gun directly at Michael's chest.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks. “Death? You selfish prick!”

“Wait- I... put it down Gavin.” Michael pleads. “I wasn’t- I didn't want-”

“Shut up.” Gavin rests the gun exasperatedly against his own head, itching the back of his head. Michael lurches for it, but Gavin is quicker than he is, always has been, and easily moves away from him. Michael retreats back to the sofa, but glares.

“Be careful!" He yells. "Don’t fuck around like that!”

Gavin just glares at him.

“Just... All I have to ask is _why_ , Michael?? You have so _much_ yet you appreciate so little! And it's really starting to piss me off!”

"Don't be mad at me!" Michael shouts. "It's the fucking zombies, alright!” He points at the covered window accusingly. "The fucking apes.” He mumbles, slamming his head into his hands, and runs his fingers through his curly hair, tugging at the roots frustratedly before snapping back up to look at Gavin with a new intensity in his glower. “They’re scared of their own fucking imaginations! They destroy everything they fucking touch, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore!”

Gavin is mostly silent as he watches Michael’s outburst. only when he is finished does he allow his eyes to fall closed, one long deep breath filling his lungs and rushing back out, angry, before he allows himself to speak.

“How can you have lived so long..." He seethes with anger, but does his best to dilute it. "...and still be so thick?” Gavin opens his eyes again, and Michael sits on the couch with an expression that reads only as bewilderment. “You think your so fucking… _deep_ ," Gavin snaps, "-moping around in this shit-hole city all day and all night, but you don’t realise that out there-” he gestures towards the window. “-is the real world! And it’s changed. It’s different. The world spins, and life fucking moves on, alright? You need to start fucking living!”

after, Gavin flops down into the arm chair. The gun still tight in his hands, but he's mostly forgotten about caring for it. Instead he watches as  Michael just mulls over his words, staring at Gavin and then, again at the gun.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Michael eventually sighs. Gavin smiles.

“You’ve been pretty lucky in love though, right?”

Michael looks at him and for once, his smile matches. "Yeah, alright.” He replies. “I'll give you that.” He stands, reaching out to take the gun back, but Gavin snatches it away before he has the chance.

“I’m not gonna let you do this. I’m never going to let you do this.” He says, standing and aiming the gun at the cabinet that holds the figurines. Michael doesn’t even blink as Gavin pulls the trigger, and the bullet flies, shattering the glass. The cabinet shakes but doesn’t hold too much damage, except for the glass. Michael’s figurines topple over, but do not break. Gavin tosses the gun on the floor. The world balances.

Gavin stands and allows Michael to approach him walks, pale fingers running up and down tanned lithe arms. “I love you.” Michael whispers, and Gavin believes him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Gavin reaches forwards, hugging Michael tightly into him. "I’m sorry too, Michael." He mumbles into dark curls. "I’m sorry you feel like this.”

“I don’t.” Michael shakes his head. “Not anymore, honestly. I didn't realise how much I missed you, until you got here, is all. I don’t Gavin- I swear I’m not-”

“Sh…” Gavin cuts him off, clutching the back of Michael’s head tightly. “It’s okay.” He rocks them both. “I forgive you. I'll always forgive you, Michael."

Gavin releases Michael, and heads over to his record player. He sifts through a few vinyls, before pulling one out, and putting it on the player. The soft, slow music fills the room, and he outstretches a hand.

He looks at Michael, and smiles. “Dance with me?”

Michael’s own smiles grows. He takes Gavin’s hand and the two move together effortlessly around the room. They dance away the tension and the problems in their own fucked up world. They dance away their worried, and they dance until the sun comes up.

oOo

The next night when they awake, the two just sit together on Michael’s leather sofa, swapping stories and memories. They fill each other back up with all the information missed in their time apart. It’s the same every time they re-join, a chance to really share each other’s memories. They aren’t a particularly telekinetic race, but Gavin smiles as he feels the light brush of Michael’s mind bonded against his.

For the first time in a long time, Michael draws the curtains back in his home. He looks up at the stars, and Gavin looks at him, smiling widely.

“There’s a diamond up there, you know.” He says. Michael frowns.

“What?”

“It’s a white dwarf.” Gavin explains. “A compressed star. It emits music… like a giant… gong.”

Michael frowns, and looks between Gavin and the sky frantically. “What? Where?” he asks. Gavin scoffs.

“You can’t see it, you donut! It’s about fifty light years away. In the constellation centarus.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

They head back to the sofa after the curtains are drawn again, and Gavin gets to spend some time with his Michael.

Michael is laughing, head thrown back and a grin on his face as Gavin recounts the story of Geoff, accidentally buying a glass dildo at a street market, thinking it was an ornament, when there is a knock at the door. Michael frowns immediately, sitting up. He stands, and Gavin follows him.

“Who is it?” he whispers to Michael, who glances out through the curtains. “Fans?”

“No,” Michael says. “I can’t see anyone out there.”

“Kids?” Gavin tries.

“At midnight? I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

It’s in his blood, to protect Gavin at all costs. In reality, Gavin is probably twice as deadly as Michael could ever be, all teeth and long gangly limbs, but he stays behind Michael as the two approach the door and open it.

Ryan leans in the doorway, suitcase resting in front of him, dark glasses covering his bright blue eyes, a grin on his face and bruises on his knuckles. Michael outwardly growls, and Gavin grins meekly.

“Surprise! Bet you guys missed me!”

“No. Absolutely fucking not.” Michael retorts, swinging the door closed with a loud bang. Gavin flinches as the sound echoes through the house, shaking the staircase. “Fucking asshole.” Michael mumbles.

“Rude!”

They both turn to see Ryan, grinning with his hands tucked into his pockets, standing in the hallway like he owned the place. Michael frowned, the look on his face thunderous.

“Did I fucking invite you in?” he asks bitterly. Ryan raises an eyebrow, and slips his glasses off, stepping forwards and ruffling Michael’s curly hair.

“Come on Michael, you and I both know that’s just a lame-ass old tradition.”

Michael throws Ryan’s hand away, and the gent backs up immediately, hands up in the air mimicking surrender. But Michael’s eyes only harden when Ryan moves towards Gavin, kissing the knuckles on his hand individually.

“Gavin.”

Gavin swallows. “Hi Ryan.”

“Did you get my messages?” Ryan asks, letting Gavin go and walking off into the living room. Gavin and Michael follow, Michael’s glare now shifting to Gavin.

“Messages?” he hisses as they enter the living room. Gavin sighs.

“Uh, yeah. I did.”

“Oh, good!” Ryan says, “I thought they weren’t getting through. Thought I was getting rusty at that dream stuff.”

“No… you…I got it.” Gavin says, shrugging and perching on the arm of the sofa. Ryan frowns.

“You can come sit, I won't bite- not unless you ask, anyway.” Ryan flashes Gavin a toothy grin, and Michael clenches his fist so tightly it’s a wonder how he doesn’t break his hand.

“Y’all got anything to drink?” Ryan asks. “I’m starved.”

“Yeah we got-” Gavin glances to Michael, who holds a thunderous gaze. “O-Negative.” He finishes.

“Sweet tooth?” Ryan asks Michael with a raise of his eyebrow. Michael ignores him, and stares at Gavin, obviously annoyed.

“Michael.” Gavin whispers, moving to stand next to him. “I know he’s… but he’s Ryan, isn’t he? He’s family? Just get him a glass, please?”

Michael doesn’t look anywhere near happy about it, but heads into the kitchen anyway. Ryan grins.

“Wow! Someone’s got a tight grip on that leash attached to the collar around your neck Michael!” he calls out with a laugh. Gavin bites his lip, and sighs, and Ryan glances to the floor.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I know I shouldn’t tease him.”

“It’s okay, it’s not just you that’s got him in a mood, if that makes you feel any better.” Gavin admits, scratching at his arm nervously. “But how’ve you been, Ryan? Geoff said you were in LA?”

“I was.” Ryan shrugs as Michael enters, placing a small flute of blood down on the table in front of Ryan. “But I got… bored, and things got a little… messy. If you catch my drift.”

“You didn't?” Gavin asks, a pained expression on his face. Ryan picks up is glass, and toasts, grinning. “Oh. I did.” he says before necking it. His teeth are red and razor sharp, and he winces almost at the sweet taste.

“Jesus. That’s good stuff!” he says. “A little…" he licks around the corner of his mouth with a thoughtful, pensive frown. "... Little medical, though? Oh wait,don’t tell me you’re still making hospital runs?” he asks with a careless laugh. 

Michael’s stony expression speaks volumes, as he sits on the chair next to the sofa, head resting on the frame.

“Nah, not for me.” Ryan continues. “I prefer fresh, you know? There’s just something about draining a nice warm body that I love. When’s the last time you drained someone Michael? Years? Decades?” At Michael's glare, Rya. doesn’t bother waiting for a reply “You need to get out more, my friend!” He pats Michael on the back, but the other vampire is as stiff as a board.

“You need to be more careful.” Gavin says. “There’s a lot of contamination out there…”

Ryan shrugs. “I am careful. Sometimes.” He pauses. “What about you, Michael? How careful are you these days?”

“Hey Ryan, when are you fucking leaving?” Michael asks, ignoring Ryan’s questions. “I’d prefer in the next hour or so to be honest, as you sure as hell aren’t staying here and sunrise isn’t far ahead.”

“Then again,” he adds. “Maybe a little walk in the sunshine’d do you good!”

Gavin gasps, and even Ryan seems slightly taken aback, frowning a little with his pupils still blown wide. “Michael!” Gavin scolds. “Don’t say things like that!”

Michael just frowns, and curls into himself on the chair. Ryan himself doesn’t speak after that as the blood takes him over, body limp and content on the sofa. Gavin moves over to where Michael sits, and leans against the side of the chair.

“Michael, we’ve got to let him stay," he says, watching Ryan in his only incapacitated and completely vulnerable  state. "...at least for a night or two? He’s family, remember?”

Michael’s eyes narrow as he looks at Ryan’s placid form. “He aint no family of mine.” He says again, before standing up and leaving the room.

oOo

Gavin understands Michael’s reasons to not like Ryan. Ryan was trouble, he always had been, from the moment they had met. Where Ryan was, destruction was never far behind.

And it didn't help that Ryan was… different.

Unlike Gavin, Michael and Geoff- Ryan wasn’t born. He was turned.

That explained a lot for Gavin when he first found out. It explained Ryan’s strong appetite and his inability to hold back from fresh blood for long. It explained why his skin was so cold and his mind was so ruthless.

Gavin knows before Ryan was turned, he had a wife and a family. It was centuries ago, but Ryan still doesn’t like to talk about it. Ryan doesn’t like to talk about anything that happened before the night he was turned.

He doesn’t talk about that night in much detail either. Gavin had received the little snippets he could from Geoff, but there wasn’t many pieces of the puzzle to piece together. Ryan had been attacked one night when he was thirty-three. He turned, and then he left his hometown and hadn’t been back since.

Geoff was the first vampire Ryan had ever met, and by proxy, he got to know Gavin and Michael. They were a family. They stayed together, fed together, travelled together. Eventually, Ryan’s cravings would get the better of him, and they’d have to move on.

It worked, for a while, before Michael had enough. He left, and dragged Gavin with him. Ryan went his own way, and Geoff retreated to Tangier. Gavin followed him out there after a few decades, where he and Michael were becoming more like enemies than a couple.

This left Michael to travel around on his own. Gavin wasn’t sure how long he’d been here in New Jersey, but he’d made a name for himself. Michael ‘Rage Quit’ Jones. Gavin chuckled when he heard the name. His Michael had always had a bit of a temper.

It’s sunrise now, and Michael looks angry even in his sleep. Gavin lays beside him, but there is a noticeable distance between the two that Gavin tries not to acknowledge. He runs his fingers down Michael’s spine gently.

“I love you.” he whispers into the silence.

oOo

Michael is awoken by his bedroom door creaking open, accompanied by a bellowing voice.

“Come on! You two’ve been sleeping forever.”

Michael’s eyes bolt open, and he looks over to Ryan, who is stood in the doorway, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Fuck off, Ryan.” Michael mumbles, turning back into his pillow. This is when Gavin begins to awaken, sitting up and stretching, scratching at his bare chest. Michael can practically feel Ryan’s eyes on him, and his stomach turns.

He turns over, to face Gavin, and pulls him back down by his side protectively. Thankfully, Gavin isn’t exactly an early riser, and gratefully cuddles back into Michael.

“Ryan. Go back to sleep.” Michael all but orders. Ryan groans.

“I’m hungry.” He whines. Michael tries but fails to ignore how much it feels like Ryan is his and Gavin’s unruly child.

“Too bad.” He replies.

“Just, tell me where you keep it, and I'll help myself?” Ryan tries. Michael's eyes snap open.

“Yeah, right." He sits up, frowning deeply. "Fucking stay right here and do not follow me.”

He doesn't want to leave Ryan alone with Gavin, but he sure as hell isn’t letting Ryan drain his supply and fucking take off, like he has done more than a few times before.

Naked except for his underwear, Michael pads into the kitchen and pulls the briefcase full of blood out of the fridge. He pours three glasses before sealing the case again, and slipping it on top of the fridge, behind a stack of books. He isn’t risking anything this time around.

“Ryan.” He calls, like an owner to a puppy.

A minute or so longer than Michael wants to wait, Ryan comes into the kitchen, followed by Gavin, who is wrapped into the bed sheet. He kisses Michael on the cheek, and rests his head tiredly on his shoulder.

“I’m tired.” The Brit mumbles. Michael just glares at Ryan, and hands Gavin his glass before saying, “Yeah- well, sorry somebody got us up so fucking early.”

Ryan just laughs, and moves to the sofa in the other room. Gavin and Michael follow and sit down opposite from Ryan, Michael in his chair and Gavin on his lap.

“It’s not even time yet.” Gavin whines, swirling his glass in his hands.

“No time like the present, I say.” Ryan says, necking back his glass. Michael cuts his eye at the gent before drinking his own glass, and watches Gavin do the say.

He can’t appreciate his high fully due to the anger he feels, and by the time they’ve all come down, he’s had enough time to think things over.

“So Ryan. You’re leaving tonight.” He announces. Ryan groans, and lies back on the sofa.

“Michael. I thought you were over this petty enemy thing. Help a brother out?” he asks, grinning.

“You are not my fucking brother.” Michael spits angrily. “And you need to leave.”

“Michael.” Gavin sighs, but he is ignored by both Michael and Ryan, who sits forwards, looking at Michael.

“Just a few nights.” He promises. “What harm could I do?”

“A lot.” Michael responds truthfully. Ryan scoffs.

“Are you ever going to stop living in the past, Michael? Forget everything I’ve done! I’m a new man!”

“You are not a man.” Michael snaps. “You’re nothing but trouble Ryan. And I can’t have you stay here, alright?”

“What, you got something better to do?” Ryan asks. Michael’s fist clenches.

“Yeah. I do actually. We’re expecting a guest tonight, and I’d prefer it if you weren’t fucking here, alright?”

Gavin frowns at this and Ryan’s eyes sparkle. “Who?” they both ask at the same time. Michael sighs, and looks to Gavin.

“I’ve mentioned my friend Ray to you, right?” he asks. Gavin nods, and Ryan shakes his head no. Michael ignores him. “He’s coming over. I wanted him to meet you.”

“How sweet.” Ryan coos. Michael glares at him.

“And that’s why I don’t want you fucking here, Ryan. Haven’t you got prostitutes to murder in LA or whatever?”

Ryan sighs and looks sadly at Michael and Gavin. “Do you guys really hate me that much?” he pouts.

“Yes.” Michael replies at the same time Gavin responds, “No.”

Ryan smiles and Michael glares at Gavin.

“You’re family Ryan.” Gavin sighs, looking at Michael and then back up to Ryan. “You can stay for a little while. But no trouble, alright?”

“Thanks!” Ryan grins, kicking back on the sofa, and reaching for the television remote. “You guys got GTA?”

oOo

With Ryan content in front of the Xbox, Michael gets the chance to talk to Gavin alone, in his room.

“What the fuck?!” he says. “Family? I’ve told you, Gav- he’s not our fucking family! We owe him nothing!”

“He’s our friend Michael! He’s trying to be good, and you’ve got to let him.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael scoffs. “And what happens when he fucks up again? What happens when he fucking kills someone, and we’ve got to flee? I don’t know about you Gavin, but I actually fucking like it here. Here is my home, and I don’t want to let Ryan fuck it up!”

“He won't.” Gavin promises, placing his hand lights on Michael’s shoulder. “Love, I promise he won't. I won't let him.”

“How can you stop him though, Gav?” Michael asks, quieter this time. “He’s dangerous, we both know that. Wherever he goes he fucks shit up. Who’s to say this time’ll be different?”

“I do.” Gavin replies. “I think this time will be different.”

Michael wants to protest but he is interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He pulls it from his pocket, and reads the message on the screen.

Ray: I’m here.

Michael sighs. “Come on. Let’s get to the door before Ryan does.”

oOo

By the time they’ve left the bedroom, Ryan is already sat with Ray on the sofa, laughing and talking with him. Michael’s fists clench, but Gavin’s hands slide over them comfortingly.

Ray looks up as Michael and Gavin enter.

“Michael!” he smiles, standing up. Michael smiles back at him, and then Ray looks to Gavin. He outstretches his hand, and Gavin takes it. “You must be Gavin. Nice to… finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too Ray.” Gavin says, politely, but his focus is on Ryan, who thankfully, looks normal and innocent and human on the sofa.

“I met your brother.” Ray says, smiling at Michael. He looks behind them to Ryan. “James. Funny, you never mentioned you had a brother?”

This takes Gavin back a little. He knows James was Ryan’s name before he got turned. He knows that Ryan never uses the name James, unless he’s creating an alibi. He frowns at Ryan, who ignores him, and smiles back at Ray as the two sit together on the sofa.

Michael’s fist relaxes as he sits, but Gavin still holds onto his hand tightly.

“Yeah, did I never mention James?” Michael asks, looking to Ryan and smiling. “Probably because he’s a bit of an asshole.”

Ryan begins to laugh and Gavin joins in quietly. Ray smiles.

“That’s the brotherly love I get after all these years, Mikey?” Ryan asks, pretending to be shocked. “I thought I meant more to you?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Oh believe me Ryan, you mean so much more.”

Ray, thankfully, is oblivious to the tension in the room, and launches into conversation about Video Games and YouTube and everything in-between. Gavin doesn’t participate much, just watches Ryan.

He doesn’t have his murder-grin on or anything, but Gavin can’t help but feel suspicious.

“Did you hear that, Gavin?” Ryan says, pulling him back into the conversation. “There’s a bar around the corner. I say we go!”

Gavin looks to Michael, who shakes his head. Gavin knows he is about to open his mouth and protest, but he knows that even Ryan wouldn’t do anything out in public.

“I can’t see why not.” He says, before Michael can reject the offer. Ray grins happily. Gavin glances at Michael anxiously, who looks beyond annoyed as Gavin stands, and picks his jacket up off the table. He slips his sunglasses on, and smiles.

“Haven’t been out in way too long.”

oOo

The bar is busy but not over-crowded. A band one out of the four people sitting in the corner booth could name played up on the main stage. Some people dance, and some people drink, before a waitress in dark jeans and a checked shirt walks over with a tray containing one can of Dr Pepper and a glass. She looks a little confused, but sets the drink down on the table anyway.

“Can I... get y’all anything else?” she asks, a little suspicious lingering in her tone. Nobody says anything. Ray glances at the three of them before shrugging at the waitress apologetically.

“Uh, no thanks.” He mumbles.

She nods and walks away, leaving a silence to over-come the table once more. Ryan is slouched with his hands in his jean-pockets and a slight smirk on his lips, but his sunglasses cover up most of his readable expression.

Michael sits on the other side of the booth, head resting in the corner and one leg propped up, leaving to Gavin lean against him, cradled between Michael’s legs. Michael nods his head slightly to the beat of the music, and Gavin just smiles softly.

“You guys definitely didn't want anything, right?” Ray asks. It’s certainly not the only question he has in his head, but it’s the only one he’s brave enough to ask.

Michael shakes his head and offers no explanation. Gavin moves to open his mouth, but it interrupted by Ryan, pulling a silver flask out of his jacket and gesturing at it to Ray, who nods.

Ryan takes a swig, and Michael’s eyes light up behind his glasses. Gavin smiles nervously.

“Is that?”

Ryan is careful not to drink too big of a mouthful. He says with a slight laugh, “Absolutely.” He looks to Michael as he hands the flask to Gavin. Michael scowls.

Gavin takes the smallest swig he can manage, and offers the flask to Michael, who shakes his head, before looking back to Ryan, who has dissolved into conversation with Ray.

Gavin hands the flask back over to Ryan, who takes another sip. He grins, and offers the flask to Ray.

Michael is quick to snatch it back from Ryan, just as Ray shakes his head.

“Sorry. I don’t drink.”

Michael sighs relieved, and shoots a dirty look towards Ryan, who ignores him.

"Me either." He looks at Ray, and his grin is wide and toothy. Ray smiles back as the band changes to more of the same, and Gavin’s head swaying increases. Michael rolls his eyes, and looks down at his lover.

“Wanna dance?” he asks, with just the slightest hint of a smile as Gavin’s grin grows. The Brit sits up quickly, and takes Michael’s hand.

“Absolutely. Be back soon guys!”

The way they dance is different. Most of the people in this bar are incredibly young, late twenties at the oldest. They jump and grind and pump their fists in the air like their fast-beating hearts depend on it. Michael and Gavin don’t do this.

Michael holds Gavin against him, so Gavin is facing away from Michael, and the two sway together slowly. It’s still in rhythm with the underlying bass tone of the music, but is a great contrast to the dancers around them. Nobody says want anything, but Michael can feel the eyes on him and he smiles, brushing his lips against Gavin’s neck gently, sending electricity through the both of them.

Gavin's breath grows heavy and nobody can see behind his eyelids but his pupils blow wide, as Michael’s hands squeeze at his hips. They rock together for what could be hours before the set finally ends and the music dies down as a new band get ready to perform. Gavin turns and wraps his arms around Michael’s neck, smiling.

“We haven’t danced together in too long, love- not counting at home, of course.”

Michael smiles. “You’re right. We should more often.”

“You know, back in Tangier there’s this little club, people come up and sing. They only get one chance, one night to sing, and then if they're good enough, people write about them, and they end up in the paper. It’s right around the corner from my place.”

Michael nods as Gavin talks, even if he isn’t listening too intently. He’s trying to find his way back to their table, but he can't spot Ryan or Ray anywhere and something is beginning to twist in his gut. Michael has always been good at controlling his instincts, but there is something scratching in the back of his throat as the faint scent of blood hit his nose.

“-You’d love it Michael, and-”

“Sh.” Michael cuts Gavin off. He scans the room again. “Where are Ryan and Ray?”

Gavin looks around and frowns. “Um… not here. Apparently.”

Michael turns and glances at Gavin worriedly, before making his way over to the both where they had been sitting. The same waitress is there, collecting up two doctor pepper cans and two glasses. She turns, noticing Gavin and Michael staring.

“Sorry boys. Your friends went home.” She tells them with a flippant shrug of her shoulders. Gavin swallows nervously, as Michael’s fists clench.

“Shit."

oOo

There is no consideration for speed limit as they race back to Michael’s house, and Gavin is thankful that they don't get pulled over. They need to get home. They need to get home.

Because Ryan isn’t a kid, not anymore. He’s smart. He would cause a scene anywhere where he couldn’t contain it.

It felt like minutes to drive to the bar, but feels more like hours driving back, a tense silence hanging in the air and Michael’s knuckles whitening at the steering wheel. Gavin leans his head against the cool glass of the widow and crosses his fingers.

When they finally make it home, Michael runs to the door. He fumbles with the lock and swears under his breath, before finally working the door open. The house is dark, almost pitch black, and they hear no sound.

Michael’s footsteps creak as he walks towards the living room door. Gavin’s do not make a sound.

It is Michael’s hand that opens the door into the dark room. It is Michael’s hand that clenches into a fist.

It is Gavin’s hands that grab onto Michael’s shoulders the minute the situation registers, holding him back.

It is Ryan’s suitcase that hits the pavement outside the door with a loud smack, followed by Ryan, shoved out of the house roughly by Michael.

"Michael, come on! We can talk this out, can't we?"

“You _drank_ Ray. Don’t you fucking even think about coming back here.” Michael says. He doesn't shout, for once. His voice is quiet and tense and threatening. Gavin can't decide which is more terrifying and it seems Ryan agrees. For one, there are no witty remarks for him to make. He hangs his head ashamedly and Michael points towards the street with his teeth grit together fiercely.

“Don’t you ever fucking come near me or Gavin ever again.”

“Michael. I’m sorry, I couldn’t-” Ryan trails off. "He kissed me and we got close and then... he was just so-"

Michael doesn’t hear the rest of what Ryan says. The door closes with a sharp bang, and Michael turns, to see Gavin, stood at the end of the corridor. He picks his sunglasses off the table by the door, and sighs.

“Guess we’ve got a body to get rid of.”

oOo

“Did he have a lot of friends? Family?” Gavin asks as they drive back home for the second time that night. It’s getting late now, or early, and they need to be home before the sun rises. Michael sighs, and pretends not to have angry tears welling in his eyes as he shakes his head. Gavin sighs.

“We’ve got to, Michael. I know you want to stay but… we have to go.”

Michael nods as they pull up outside the house. “I know.” He whispers. He does not say anything else for the whole evening. He doesn’t speak when Gavin kisses him, a thousand times in a thousand different places across his body. He doesn’t speak when Gavin gives up, and just lays with him. He doesn’t speak when he dreams of Ray that night.

He doesn’t speak when he leaves everything he has behind.

Gavin spends most of the time sorting out the flights. They don’t get to feed. Ryan somehow managed to take it all with him, the bastard. They can both feel the first itches of hunger, but ignore it.

“Geoff’s got the loveliest stuff back in Tangier, Michael,” Gavin promises. “Not too salty. Light on the stomach. He’ll hook us up.”

“Have you called?” Michael asks, taking all the cash he owns and tucking it into the pocket of his black leather jacket. Gavin bites his lip, and slips a white t-shirt over his head.

“Went to voicemail. But he’s probably sleeping.” Gavin shrugs. Michael says nothing.

He doesn’t bring anything he owns except a few clothes, which he slips into Gavin’s white leather case. He wears a black t-shirt with black jeans and boots and a black leather jacket, with black leather fingerless gloves and the darkest sunglasses he owns, tucked into his back pocket. He mourns for Ray in the only way he can, considering the man will never have a funeral.

Ironically, Gavin wears all white- not stopping at leather fingerless gloves or the rims of his glasses. He kisses Michael on the cheek gently.

“It’s alright Michael. It wasn’t your fault.” He whispers. Michael’s face remains stony. Gavin makes no effort to push.

oOo

The hunger is stronger on the aeroplane. Michael had always hated air travel, but business class makes things a little easier. It doesn’t stop his gripping onto his seat handles like he was hanging off a cliff, however.

Gavin has become accustom to air-travel over the many years. He sits slouched in his seat with one leg loosely across the other, sunglasses covering his eyes. He hears Michael start to drift off to sleep beside him, and sighs, looking at his love.

“I’m sorry boi." He whispers once he knows Michael  is completely slseep. “I’m so sorry.”

The hunger makes his stomach lurch and dance, and he desperately wishes Geoff would just pick up the fucking phone already because it’s starting to hurt. He mentally curses Ryan in his head.

The man a few seats in front of them and to the right is leafing through a magazine. He winces and draws his thumb back into his mouth as he cuts it on the paper. A few drops of blood drop down onto a tissue he holds. Gavin swallows thickly, and tries his best to ignore it.

oOo

They land and get a cab to Gavin’s town, Michael sleeping on his shoulder almost the entire way. It would be cute, if he wasn’t so fucking hungry. As the cab pulls to a stop, Gavin reaches inside Michael pocket, and fishes out an American twenty-dollar bill. Once converted to local currency it's worth so much more than the thirty minute cab ride, and the driver smiles gratefully. Gavin nudges Michael slightly, waking him up.

Michael frowns bitterly as he steps out of the cab, looking around at the cobblestone streets. Everything is too hot, too unfamiliar. He hates starting new. He hates Ryan.

He looks to the café Gavin is heading into and frowns. “Where are we going?” he asks, frowning. Gavin smiles back at him, pushing his sunglasses up his nose.

“This is where me and Geoff always meet. He actually lives here, in secret through the back. Doesn’t want anyone to know… for obvious reasons.”

Michael smiles fondly and it dawns on Gavin instantly that it's the first time he _has_ smiled since Ray. “Oh yeah," he asks "didn't he ‘die’ a couple hundred years ago?”

Gavin winks. “Course he did.”

They are met by the man Gavin knows owns the café, but he is not smiling. He talks fast and not in English, and Michael struggles to keep up with the conversation. Gavin can however, and worriedly pulls Michael after him, following the man through to one of the back rooms. Michael can hear Gavin muttering “No, no, no,” under his breath, and suddenly, everything feels very _wrong_ in the air.

They go through a corridor, and through two more locked doors before they enter Geoff’s room. It is exactly like Michael would imagine it, literature pinned everywhere and expensive looking carpets draped that were almost definitely hand made, candles decorating every surface, chiming clocks of different times adoring the walls. Everything is old, but when Geoff recieved it- it was new.

Geoff lays in a bed, looking truly his age for the first time forever. Michael’s breath catches in his throat, and Gavin runs to the bedside without hesitation.

“Hey kid.” Geoff wheezes, as Gavin crouches slowly beside him. He coughs violently. Before summoning the energy to crane his neck and take Gavin in. “You look like shit.” He jokes

Gavin laughs tearfully, slipping his sunglasses off his head as Michael does the same begin him. “So do you.” he whispers, but the tears clog his throat and make the words heavy in the room. Geoff smiles.

“I knew they’d get me one day.”

“Who?” Gavin asks, trying bus best to ignore the tears that slip down his face. Geoff shakes his head wistfully.

“Mother nature. Father time, they finally caught up, the bastards-” he laughs a little painfully, before looking across the room, to Michael. “Michael!" He exclaims as best he can. "Good to fucking see you kid!”

“And you Geoff.” Michael replies solemnly, slipping his own sunglasses off and tucking them onto the collar of his shirt. Geoff rolls his eyes.

“Lighten up kid. You’ve got the whole of forever ahead of you!”

“So do you.” Michael replies, moving closer to Geoff’s bedside so he can stand behind Gavin, resting a hand on his shoulder. Geoff’s blue eyes wander around the room with a distant fondness and he shakes his head, coughing again.

“Nope. He says. "No more time left on my clock, kid. I’m going.”

“No.” Gavin whispers, clutching Geoff’s hand tightly. “Geoff. What happened?”

“Bad batch.” Geoff explains, as flippantly as he can whilst wincing in pain. “Just a bad batch. That’s all. Make sure to burn all my stuff, okay?”

“Oh Geoff.” Gavin sighs. Geoff weakly reaches under the covers, and pulls out a tiny silver flask, he hands it to Gavin. “You look hungry.” He nods.

Gavin takes the flask, and frowns at it suspiciously. Geoff laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna poison you, asshole. That’s all I’ve got left of the good stuff. Well’s run dry, I’m afraid.”

Gavin swigs half of the trickle that's  before handing the flask up and behind him to Michael. This time, when the tear slips from his eye, it is blood red. He blinks it away.

“You can't, Geoff-" he pleads quietly. "Please... don’t go. Michael just got here."

“Gavin.” Geoff sighs. “This was always coming. You’ve gotta learn to live without me, I’m afraid.”

Gavin shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” He protests. Geoff chuckles.

“I know.” he clutches Gavin’s hand back just as tightly. “But it’s okay. You have Michael. And Ryan- wherever the fuck he is. You don’t need me”

His eyes start to close slowly, and Gavin lets out a strangled- “Geoff!”

“It’s okay” Geoff whispers. “I’m not-” He wheezes. “-afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m no-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence before his body goes limp and his grip loosens in Gavin’s hand. Gavin stands up, and wipes his eyes furiously. He turns, resting his face in Michael’s shoulder and let's out a muffled wail. Michael hugs him tightly, and says nothing, just stares at Geoff, feeling the most emotion he has in years.

OoO

They wander the streets together, and alone. They don’t exactly have a lot of possessions, except for the crap Gavin keeps in his apartment, but that’s okay. They don’t need possessions.

They’re vampires. They live forever.

Or- they’re supposed to.

They stop by the bar Gavin was talking about, just lingering in the doorway. They’re both so hungry, but they both feel the hunger dim slightly as the girl on the stage sings.

“She’s good.” Gavin whispers. Michael nods in agreement. “Maybe she’ll be famous.”

They turn out of the bar and back into the street, arms linked. Michael shakes his head.

“Nah" he says. "she’s too good to be famous.”

A shop sits across the street from them, and immediately, something catches Michael's eye. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even begin to wonder how something so old and so incredible could have just been sitting in a traders- but Gavin can tell by the look in his eyes that he is instantly inspired.

Gavin smirks as Michael leans against the wall, and slips his sunglasses off. Michael looks at him.

“What?” he asks.

Gavin tilts his head, and holds his hand out. Michael raises an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna get you a present." Gavin says. "Give me all your money, baby.”

Michael smiles at his teasing tone and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he had left New Jersey and places it in Gavin’s palm. It's all they have, but Michael knows can trust Gavin with his life, let alone something as commonplace as money. Gavin leaves with a wink, skipping into the store across the way.

He exits barely ten minutes or so later, with no money that Michael can see, and the most beautiful guitar Michael’s ever laid eyes on in his hands.

“A present. To say sorry for Ray.” He explains, handing it over. Michael smiles, stroking the strings.

“Old.” He comments.

“Hundred years. At least.” Gavin adds, taking his place leant against the wall next to Michael. Across the road, the shop vender closes, leaving with a wave goodbye and a smile to Gavin, who doesn’t expect him to be open any time soon.

“She’s beautiful.” Michael plucks the horrifically un-tuned string once. “Thank you.”

Gavin smiles. “Reminds me of back when you used to spend your time playing instruments, not video games.”

Michel shrugs. “Can’t keep living in the past though, can I?” he asks.

“Well.” Gavin shrugs. “Maybe you’re right sometimes. About the zombies.”

Michael runs his fingers over the strings again, turning and tuning them. “The zombies.” He repeats. “Are they onto water wars yet?”

Gavin shakes his head. “Oil still, unfortunately.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Zombies. They never quite get it until it’s too late. What a fucking species.”

The streets are empty now, and Gavin’s stomach growls, bringing them back from the distraction. They’re both hungry, and they can’t hide it.

Gavin looks worriedly to Michael.

“Michael. What are we going to do?” he asks, sounding genuinely worried for the first time. Michael looks across the empty street, and then up to the stars.

“I don’t know.” He admits, staring straight up into the sky. Michael remembers when they used to love the stars. “Gavin,” he breathes, hunger screaming in his gut. Gavin’s words have always been able to take the pain away. He hopes this time will be no different.

“Tell me about Einstein’s theory of entanglement?” He asks.

Gavin smiles weakly and rests his head on Michael's shoulder, following his gaze up to the sky. “Not a theory.” he begins, like he has thousands of times before. “It’s proven. Einstein said, that when you separate entwined particles, it doesn’t matter how far you move them- all the way to the bleeding ends of the universe! If you alter one, the other will be altered and affected in exactly the same way. Spooky, ‘aint it?. How they just can't live without each other.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, and tears his gaze from the sky. He looks at Gavin, and watches how suddenly, he seems brighter than every single one, even in his weak state. He is about to speak, when something catches his eye across the street. Gavin notices too, and turns.

There is a couple. They talk animatedly, and kiss a few times. He looks to Gavin, and swallows.

“So fucking fifteenth century.” Michael mutters.

Gavin nods in agreement, sitting up. “Still." He asks. "What choice do we have?”

“I'll take the girl.” Michael decides.

Gavin frowns. “Why?”

Michael shrugs. “Because, I deserve it.”

They advance on the two silently from behind. The guitar left resting in the street. There's no worry about witnesses or CCTV in Tangier, which is a bonus, Michael guesses.

The couple are unsuspecting as Michael and Gavin bare their fangs. They don’t know what’s coming to them. They could never know what was coming to them.

Michael’s teeth sink into her flesh, not even giving her the time to scream as he drinks. He hates every single moment of it.

But he deserves it. Oh boy does he deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ! Kudos and comments appreciated !

**Author's Note:**

> Only Lovers Left Alive is an amazing British-German film by Jim Jarmusch, starring Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton. It's amazing, and if you liked this (not that I probably did it anywhere near enough justice) check it out!


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